


A Walk Through History Plummeting Right Into Despair

by Elzi_Welzi



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Come on give it a chance, Dirty minds, Multi, SYOC, Slight spoilers, When is Junko ever not a part of it?, character deaths but that's expected isn't it?, cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elzi_Welzi/pseuds/Elzi_Welzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope's Peak Museum of International Achievements was an institution that immortalized the success of every Ultimate in the history of Hope's Peak Academy and was considered the holy grail of all museums. So why does Moriyama Ryouko find herself trapped inside it with 16 other Ultimates in a death game to see who makes history and who becomes history?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up In A Museum Isn't That Strange, Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope's Peak Museum of International Achievements was an institution that immortalized the success of every Ultimate in the history of Hope's Peak Academy and was considered the holy grail of all museums. So why does Moriyama Ryouko find herself trapped inside it with 16 other Ultimates in a death game to see who makes history and who becomes history?

"Big sis, calm down," I murmur quietly into my phone, glancing around the empty train car. This train makes a full lap around the city, but relatively stays empty due to the fact that it's a private line completely dedicated to Hope's Peak Academy thus earning it the title of "Kibougamine Line" to the public, apparently it's to make travelling easier for the students and staff, especially students who specialize in fields that require a lot of public or outdoor interaction. As a soon to be student it automatically registered my public ID which I find a little excessive, but I guess I have no reason to judge.

"I can't help it," she squealed on the other end of the line and I can tell she's jumping up and down because I can practically _hear_ her chest's default sound effects. Seriously how did her chest get like that? My chest looks nothing like that, why are genetics so unfair? Oh wait sis is still talking, "My little sister is going to Hope's Peak Academy!"

"What did you expect," I mutter darkly, glancing down at my shoes. "I'm Moriyama Ryouko."

Sound familiar? It should I'm the current sweetheart of prime time television. I'm the prodigious actress who's been making a name for herself since she was six, like so many other child stars. So what makes me so special?

My parents had no idea I was performing.

Up until I was eleven my family remained wholly obliviously unaware that I was making a name for myself as one of the biggest actresses in the media. Of course when they found out a lot of screaming and yelling ensued and I was _recommended_ (forced) to present my actual name to the public, the media is still unaware that my family threatened to disown me if I refused. Rather cruel aren't they? Don't worry it's the norm in my family since we have a title to uphold.

The great Moriyama household, the family in charge of one of the largest trading companies in the world, not to mention the owners of several chain restaurants and resorts. We're right up there on the power scale with the Togami family, thank goodness we're in separate brackets or else there would be bloodshed and the entirety Japan's economy would suffer in the aftermath. Oh right back to my family, well as you'd expect from one of the most influential families in Japan we've got a reputation to uphold, manners are ingrained into all members of the family at a young age and it's drilled into all of us that we must excel in everything we do. Of course they're a lot stricter around my older siblings, but as the sixteenth child I get a lot of leeway. I know right _sixteenth,_ busy parents I guess.

I know what you're thinking _"if your family's so influential how the heck did they not recognize your face?"_ Don't worry you're not the only who's asked, the paparazzi had a field day when they found out. Bullshit story given to the media? They knew all along and this was a slightly embarrassing publicity stunt by me (of course it was okay to pin it one me, people seemed to find it adorable for some reason). What really happened? My own family didn't recognize me all dolled up and pretty. Sad, right? It would be if I hadn't wanted that to happen. I worked _so_ hard so that they wouldn't notice anything was off, I gave 120% on all my school work so I wouldn't be confronted on why I wasn't focused, altered my home personality so far from my stage persona (possibly what I would've really been like if I hadn't been part of this warped family), bribed the house staff, taught myself how to lie to people's face so convincingly that even I think they're true sometimes and threw myself entirely into every and any role I played. Why'd I do it?

Because it was everything I wanted in life. Celebrities were noticed, they were special and they were loved. They were the exact opposite of my role as the meek, polite and possibly introverted sixteenth child of two business tycoons. I _hungered_ for it, the cameras, the lights, the attention, the adoration and the _fame_. Even in my young, naive six year old brain I know that was what I wanted so I bribed one of the house staff to pretend to be my guardian for an audition and when she saw how successful I was she agreed to keep doing it and I lied to cover for the both of us. I got what I wanted, the attention, the stardom and the screaming fans.

Honestly, it's not all it's cracked up to be.

It's nice at first, with people complimenting you at every turn and the pleasant feeling of people knowing your name because of your achievements, not just your family. It turns sour real fast though. Everyone wants a piece of gossip about you, one wrong facial expression and you could ruin your entire career. The pressure only builds when you're toting around your family name because everything you do reflects your them and from the way they watch you'd think that they're just waiting for you to mess up. I make it work though, I'll be play whatever role I need to play if it keeps them out of my hair wish I could say the same for the paparazzi (no matter how perfect, textbook or socially correct I behave they never seem to stop digging). I've put on so many facades that I'm no longer sure what my real personality is, goes to show how my talent and dominated my entire existence.

After all that I really don't need to tell you might soon to be title, do I?

"Ryooooou-chan are you listening?" My sister demands loudly, almost making me drop my phone Oops right conversation happening. I tend to black out. Like _a lot_.

"Of course," I reply curtly. I wince as I adjust my phone between my ear and shoulder catching sight of reflection on the window. It stares back at me, all wide doe eyes and aristocrat features. I'm actually kind of pretty without makeup (ignore my ego it doesn't know what it's talking about), I just don't have any prominent distinguishing features, plus I've got the same coloring as nearly every other person in Japan. Yup no exotic or exciting colors for me just your run of the mill black with plain brown eyes to match, I know I fail in the shoujo manga department don't remind me.

"If you are then what did I just say?"

"Hm.." I answer curtly urging her to silently repeat her question as I finger a lock of hair between my fingers.

"Mou, why are you so nonchalant?" more bouncing sound effects. "You even get a field trip on the first day why aren't you excited?"

"To a museum," I deadpan. I'm all for studying, I actually like doing it most of the time, it can be really fascinating and heck history is one of my favorite subjects it just get's really annoying when people expect you to be just as controversial and historically important as the people you're studying.

"Not just any museum! Hope's Peak Museum of International Achievements!"

A yes the private institution dedicated to displaying all the achievements of all the alumni of Hope's Peak Academy and other memorable events in history (they're just kind of like side notes compared to what most students have done) and as a soon to be student I am expected to do something just as great which is not only a lot of pressure, it's also such a drag too. Honestly what were they thinking, showing us that on the first day? It seems to counterproductive...

I sigh as the intercom pings to life.

"We have just pulled in at the private Hope's Peak Academy station all students are advised to exit the train. Please mind the open doors."

"I'm here now, big sis," I murmur into the phone slinging my bag over my shoulder. "I'm hanging up now."

"Huh, already? Fiiiine make sure to call later alrig─?" Click. Call ended.

Making my way of the train I square my shoulders, straightening my back and stretching my neck a little bit more. Everyone I'm about to meet has a talent like I do. I'm just like them there's nothing to be afraid of nothing at all.

"Alright Hope's Peak Academy," I murmur to myself, plastering a sweet smile on my face. "You wanted the Ultimate Actress so that's what I'll be."

* * *

"Um, hello?" I ask, confused as I step into the entry hall. I'm a little early since I came directly from the station (surprisingly enough it seems that no other students decided to take the train), but it seems at tad impossible that I'm the first one to arrive. Glancing around I spy a surveillance in the farthest corner of the room, but quickly dismiss it since it doesn't seem _too_ out of place at a school like this.

"Geez, you'd think they'd have a teacher or something waiting around for the new stu..." I cut off my own sentence with a loud gasp as black splotches erupt in my vision. Clutching my head as a searing pain suddenly burns in the back of my mind.

"What's going on...?" I manage to grind out through clenched teeth. The last thing I remember is my knees giving out before my vision fades to black.

* * *

I woke up laying down on a bench. A bench facing the _restrooms_ of all places.

"Guh, what happened?" I murmur sitting up a barely keeping my blush down as I see how far my skirt has ridden up while I was knocked out. As I sit up something flutters to the floor from my lap, curious I pick it to find a what looks like a museum pamphlet. The cover has a huge, elegantly built three story building on the cover, complete with a glass dome, written in elegant, but eye catching print is the name I was already expecting to see; Hope's Peak Museum of International Achievements. Curiously I flip through the pamphlet quickly skimming over the various pictures and captions only to stop and stare at the very back.

What must have been a blank space before is now covered in childish scrawl, most likely written with a crayon. Little stick figures are drawn at the bottom, simple and smiling while messily drawn globes, books a butterflies are scattered between the letters of the message.

_"Weeeelcome Miss Ryouko Moriyama!_

_The staff of Hope's Peak Museum of International Achievements is grateful for your visit~_

_You are to head straight to the entrance hall of the museum to make formal introductions with your classmates, no unnecessary dilly-dallying or exploring will be tolerated. If you turn back to page seven of this pamphlet you will find your current location marked with a big fat 'x', you are to make your way to the entrance hall from there. Feel free to freshen up in the bathrooms located right in front of you, but make sure to be there before 12:30!_

_That's all for now and good luck~"_

"That's it?" I hiss more than a little peeved off. Just how gung-ho is this school? No formal letter or anything, just make us go to the academy and knock us out and drop us in here? Scrunching the pamphlet in my fist I shove it into my skirt pocket haphazardly, not even caring if it creates a rather unsightly bulge at my hip. With fists clenched at my sides I stomp noisily into the women's restroom subconsciously noticing another camera down the hallway. So they're watching us? Good. I throw my most annoyed face at the camera and bang the restroom door shut behind me for good measure, politeness be damned.

Making my way over to the sink I can't help but glance at the mirror, it's more of a habit now instead of actual concern for my appearance, I couldn't care less about what I look like, but my family and my line of work do and if I want to keep either I've got to put effort. Well I guess you could say I'm concerned about my appearance just not for the reason most people are. As I look over the familiar lines of my face I can't help but feel that something is _off_ I can't put my finger on it exactly, but somehow my reflection seems almost foreign to me. Must be because of getting knocked on the head...

After scrubbing my face viciously with some warm water and pulling my hair into a simple half ponytail (I think they hit me with something, simply lying down does not make one's hair _that_ messy). Letting a warm (most likely fake) smile spread across my cheeks I flip a lock of hair over my right shoulder and straighten my posture, flashing a peace sign at my reflection for good measure. Glancing at the clock as I exit the bathroom I give a small nod of satisfaction. 12:15 I've got time.

"Alright, let's do this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go my first attempt at an SYOC! Any thoughts or opinions on the setting or on Ryouko? I've been reading a lot of SYOC's lately and this idea just kept nagging so I though "What the hell, let's give it a shot" or something like that… Originally posted on ff.net so all the characters have already been picked out, apologies...


	2. Liars, Strangers, And... A Change of Plans?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introductions get rolling, Ryouko gets a lot more than she bargained for, and one of our students is a dirty, dirty liar. Oh, and it seems our killing game has already snagged on some speed bumps.
> 
> Aren't we off to a good start?

"Well this is strange," I murmur to myself, casually glancing around. Turning out of the little alcove where the bathrooms were located I found myself in the middle of a long hallway. The stone ceiling arched high above my head and there were pictures of important looking people hanging on the wall, bronze placards with neat engravings were placed beneath them, though I'm too befuddled by my current predicament to really notice. There are no people, none at all; no staff or visitors in sight just me and the soft sound of my footsteps on the glossy marble floors. Though the weirdest thing has to be the windows.

Metal plates bolted over each and every one of them. Or at least where I assume they should be.

"Paranoia?" I murmur to myself, throwing a skeptical glance at a bolted window. "Or a really bad decor statement?"

"It's nice to know I wasn't the only one thinking that," a soft voice murmurs behind me. Whirling around in panic I find myself facing a male not much taller than I am. He blinks owlishly at me with large green eyes behind a pair of thick, black squared glasses, his head tilted to the side in the universal expression of confusion. Skittering back a few steps nervously, I try to keep the pleasant smile though I'll admit I nearly pissed myself just now.

"Well, um hello, that's nice I guess," I tell him, fumbling for words. Okay. What. The. **_Fuck._ ** I've dealt with insistent reporters, crazed fans and pushy family members before; I practically have a PhD in dealing with people. I'm not going to act like a bumbling idiot just because I'm by myself.

_'You're the confident daughter of two of the biggest business tycoons of the modern world, '_ I tell myself internally. _'You're an actress who's earned her spot on amongst the best of the best.'_ Is it sad that I have to tell myself my role in life to have a convincing, legit personality? To most people it would be, not having a solid personality I mean. I guess I've just grown used to it, my likes, dislikes, hobbies and looks are tailored to what is expected to me. I'm quirky enough that I'm memorable to the media, yet not overly so that I'd get labelled as a freak. People tell me I'm real and down to earth, but honestly I act like that because that's what they want to see. If they peeled back all the layers of the various roles I play they'd probably find a scared little girl too afraid to _have_ her own personality.

But maybe that's just a little too pessimistic for my current character.

"Well, hello," I try again giving him a gentle smile, just the right amount of confidence playing at the edges. "My name's Moriyama Ryouko. You wouldn't happen to know what's going on, would you?"

For a moment he blinks at me rapidly and it reminds me of something, something I can't quite put my finger on… Aha! The way his eyes keep on fluttering open and shut reminds me off a flashlight being flicked on and off. That's just how big and luminous his eyes are; only seeming to glow brighter by because of the long lashes framing them. Bottom line, his eyes are more feminine than mine, yet also a lot more masculine at the same time. Honestly I need to be in direct contact with people more often, I've just ranted for a rather embarrassing amount of time about a person's _eyes,_ what is wrong with me?

Right, everything technically, I keep forgetting.

"Not much…" he trails of sheepishly and I can tell from his posture and facial expression that he has something more he wants to ask. I give him an encouraging nod as I make the universal signal for 'go on…?' He coughs awkwardly and I have to hold back a giggle. "Sorry to be rude, but you wouldn't be _The_ Moriyama Ryouko would you?"

"The…?" I ask questioningly pretending I have no idea what he's talking about. I really need to stop doing this… "Oh you mean my title!"

A polite nod.

"My apologies for withholding that information," I tell him inclining my head politely. "I'm here under the title Ultimate Actress. Are you one of the other students? Did they knock you out too?"

I see a little of the confusion in his eyes clear up as he nods. They should really change my title to Ultimate Topic Changer.

"Oh, you too? Thank goodness I thought it was just me… I actually have no idea how to get to the entrance hall; directions aren't exactly my thing…" He says trailing of once more and I have to smile. He's definitely a new student like me and he seems pleasant enough, maybe the others won't be _that_ bad.

"Nice to meet you, um…" Great now it's my turn to trail off, how could I forget to ask his name? Was my introduction that self-centered? My etiquette teacher would probably smack me with a wooden spoon right about now.

"Oh it's fine it's my fault for steering away the introductions," he apologizes and I have to commend him for picking up on my thoughts and thankfully diffusing the tension. "Anyway, my name is Moriai Ayane, it's nice to meet you Moriyama-san."

* * *

**Ayane Moriai**

**Ultimate Theater Actor**

* * *

"Ryouko," I correct him, blurting out my given name without thinking. Alright think, think. What thought tangent made me say that out loud? "I'd prefer it if you call me Ryouko, I don't really enjoy being called by my family name."

"Ryouko-san then," Moriai amended, polite as ever. "Feel free to call me by given name also."

"I'll consider it, Moriai-kun, but I think I'll stick to your surname for now."

"Whatever you feel comfortable with."

A slight beat of awkwardness.

"Um so shall we get going?" I ask pointing over my shoulder towards the end of the hall; it's obvious that there is another broad hallway connected to it. Gesturing to the pamphlet in my hands once more I show it to him and gingerly trace the path to the entrance hall with my index finger, almost painfully aware of his presence.

Moriai doesn't strike me as a very dynamic person, though. It's more in the way he carries himself with subtle confidence, I'd say. He's probably around 5'5 (not much taller than my 5'3 really), with messy navy-violet hair that swoops to the side (a classic boy next door hair style if anything), and built surprisingly slim for a male, but he's far from effeminate with his broad shoulders and limbs. His clothes help accentuate his physique, but appear formal, just not in an exaggerated way. A mint-green vest over a white long sleeve button down, the collar ironed impeccably with equally ironed slacks though instead of dress shoes like one would expect he's wearing black & white sneakers. Coupled with his almost dorkish glasses and light sprinkling of freckles on his cheeks and nose he looked like your generic theater nerd, yet his posture labelled him as someone aware of himself and his surroundings.

I'll also bet that he's 10x times better than anyone I've ever seen perform. Not to mention if he's anything like me then his personality could very well change at the drop of a hat.

What a reassuring thought.

"Um, Mo─ Ryouko-san, it's almost 12:30 we should head to the entrance hall," Moriai interrupts my internal evaluation of him. Geez, I really need an alarm button or something. Nodding swiftly, I turn away from him confidently beginning to stride down the hall, expecting him to get the idea and follow.

As we round the corner, I finally organize my wits enough to cement my character and attempt to begin conversation with him once more. "So as the Ultimate Theater Actor, I guess you've been in quite few plays, huh?"

"Yes plenty, I've had roles in various popular plays and reintroduced a lot of the forgotten classics, that's probably one of the only reasons the academy even considered taking me."

"I think that's amazing, though," I assure him softly. It's not a lie either, theater actors perform the same role as hundreds and thousands of others and for Moriai to be deemed an "Ultimate" he must be the real deal. I've never had to play a character that's already been portrayed once, I've played various roles, used a hundred personalities, but I've never had to act out one that has already been established by someone else, the idea kind of unnerves me. "I can't imagine having to compare myself to another actor over just one role."

"Some of my roles are really unique actually," Moriai responded softly, hands wringing together unconsciously, but not in a way that implies that he does it often. "Sometimes the story seems the same, but no matter how similar, the characters will always come out different in subtle way. Because every theater actor understands, you have to stay in character, but also make yourself memorable. The interpretation of a character will always vary from actor to actor, that's just the way theater acting works."

"I see," I respond quietly, absorbing his words. Despite our similar titles Moriai and I have have been performing on two completely different levels; parallel to each other in difficulty, but completely different in application. Moriai's calls for him to put effort into finding something in the character that he can make entirely his own; remarkable, memorable and utterly unique. I do the exact opposite, my work calls for me to abandon my own personality and habits to portray a character as realistically as possible. There's something I want to ask him, though. "Performing live must really be rewarding, huh?"

"What do you mean?" he asks quietly.

"I mean you get to see the reactions to your work so clearly," I inform him, trying to keep my voice light. "You can tell you're amazing by the way people show up in droves to watch you perform, though I guess it must be really nerve-wracking in its own way."

"You have no idea," he tells me, a wry smile curling on his lips. "It's nothing compared to what you can do though."

"Hm..?"

"I've seen your movies and shows, I don't think there's a person in this country who hasn't," we're slowly beginning to walk faster since the end of the hallway is already in view; a high wooden arch leading into what looks like a circular room, distant figures of people milling around the space, that must the entrance hall. Despite the observation I keep a close ear on what Moriai is saying, as a fellow actress I have great interest in his opinion of my work.

"You seem to melt into every role you're given," he says a note of awe in his voice. "You've played such a diverse assortment of characters; it's amazing that you can change the way to act so effortlessly, it's enviable really."

"Thank you," I tell him, feigning shyness. It's the polite thing to say after all, even if I already have absolute faith in my talent; it's still nice to hear it from other people. As we approach the archway Moriai pats my shoulder sympathetically, though what for I cannot say.

"Well it's about time we meet our other classmates, Ryouko-san. I guess this is where we'll part for now," he says calmly before looking me directly in the eye. "I realize that it might feel natural for you to put on a facade, but I really do look forward to getting to know the _real_ you." Without another word he turns away, making his way over to a group of boys speaking leisurely at one side of the room.

I stand stock still for a moment, not exactly sure how to feel about someone noticing right from the get go that my personality isn't entirely my own. Am I angry? I've worked hard to build up this persona, tailored to what the world wants to see, isn't it justifiable for me to be upset someone can read me? Or am I... Happy? That someone was able to notice that at least?

I can't really say. I've never thought of someone noticing at all.

"Hey what's up?" A loud voice calls out to me, effectively pulling me out of my inner musings. A girl bounds up to me with a brilliant smile on her face, she looks so determined to give me a high five that I use the short moment to make a quick inspection of her appearance. She's so _tall,_ a good deal taller than Moriai and therefore a lot taller than _me_ , her thin frame only adds to her height. Her raven hair is done up in two pigtails though some stands fall into her eyes which are a strange, brilliant red that are borderline hypnotic. She's dressed casually to go with her seemingly carefree disposition, a plain white t-shirt that hangs loosely from her skinny frame and casual denim shorts to match, she's wearing black knee high socks with comical planets drawn all over them, ending in black high tops which look worn from constant use. There's a pendant around her neck in the shape of Saturn, swinging wildly with her erratic movements; so much that I'm worried it would snap off its chord and fly off. Just looking at her the words _high-energy_ , _carefree_ and _outdoorsey_ came to mind. Never mind if that last one isn't technically a word.

"Checking me out, huh?" she teases, dramatically putting a hand to her head in an exaggerated pose of long suffering. "You wouldn't be the first girl to exit the closet because of me. It's so sad that I can't accommodate all those lovely young ladies."

I feel my face turn red at her teasing, spluttering out excuses about how she's wrong as her smile widens further. Finally I manage to get a coherent phrase out, though my blush doesn't fade, "I do _not_ swing that way!" I saw it coming really, but I can't help but feel extremely annoyed as she bursts into a fit of giggles.

"I-I'm just t-teasing," she manages to get out between giggles, clutching her stomach in mirth. "Geez, that blush of yours is adorable."

"Haha," I tell her dryly, finally managing to beat down my blush. "I'm dying of laughter inside, I swear."

"Aw, don't be like that~" she says, finally straightening to hold out a hand towards me. "The name's Nanto Hokuto, you're free to call me Hokuto! So let's hang sometime, 'kay?"

* * *

**Hokuto Nanto**

**Ultimate Astronomer**

* * *

"Aren't astronomers usually a little quieter and... Scientific I guess, Nanto-san?" I ask her, letting an eyebrow rise. Her expression sobers as she straightens, effectively towering over me though her expression is not unkind.

"Hokuto. And just because I like to study the galaxy doesn't mean I'm all textbook and theory, you know," she says matter-o-factly, crossing her arms. "That'd just be making the thing I love plain boring..."

"Oh, I'm sorry if I offended you. I'm ─" I begin earnestly a little ashamed of how awkward I've let this conversation become.

"Moriyama Ryouko, right?" she responds her bubbly personality bouncing right back. She grabs both my hands in her own, pulling me closer to examine my face. She looks about two seconds from hugging my like I'm a carnival plush toy. "I've seen plenty of your movies, but my favorite is that rom-com one! The one focusing on an astronomy club! You were so great in that!"

"Oh, you're not offended by it?" I ask her quietly. She tilts her head to the side, not completely sure what I'm talking about, I let out a sigh of relief, but decide to clarify anyway. "I mean you _are_ the Ultimate Astronomer, right? You're not offended by a half-baked movie that only shows your talent in a rather immature light?"

A pregnant pause.

"Of course not," she cries, her grip on my hands tightening in what seems to be a reassuring manner. "I _loved_ that movie and you were just portraying a high school astronomy club, of course I didn't expect any of the serious things in my line of work! And you really shouldn't call any your movies half-baked," she chastises lightly, letting go of my hands to wag a finger at me, with a pseudo stern expression on her face. "You really get into character for every single one of them, truly worthy of the title Ultimate Actress!"

Her words leave me speechless for a moment (seriously what is with the Ultimates, this is happening too often!). Sure I've grown used to the compliments, but I didn't expect them here, maybe a little acknowledgement, maybe a little recognition, but everyone here had done something amazing, I thought being something like the Ultimate Actress was no big deal, yet the first two people I've met have been really kind and amazed by my talent. I guess sometimes it's really great to be wrong. Beside me it seems Nanto had gone into panic due to my internal monologue.

Drats, I've done it again.

"I'm sorry I got your title wrong didn't I!? Let me guess, uhm, Ultimate Sweetheart? Ultimate TV Darling?" Nanto asks frantically racking her brains for my possible titles, causing me to giggle slightly, surprisingly genuine.

"No, sorry I was just thinking," I interrupt gleefully at her confused expression, though I have a feeling this will probably be the last time this ever happens. "You were right I am the Ultimate Actress. Sorry again, I tend to blank out when I'm thinking too much." To my surprise Nanto grins, throwing an arm over my shoulder, squeezing me tightly to her side, making me uncomfortably aware of both her breasts and ribs.

"You know what, I like you! Let's get along 'kay, Ryou-chan?" she tells me, smiling brightly. The nickname makes me flinch and splutter though, only my closest sister has ever called me that, and it took her four years to get me to accept it without me throwing a shoe at her in retaliation.

"I don't remember allowing you to call me that!" I cry loudly, feeling my face flush once more and Nanto releases me, her grin growing impossibly wider.

"Well it's cute; you're cute so it makes sense."

"That logic is debatable!"

"At least it isn't a black hole," she responds lightly, tugging a lock of my hair teasingly, leaning away with a light grin as I swat at her hand. "See you around Ryou-chan! I gotta go introduce myself to some of our classmates!"

Just like that. As quickly as she came, Nanto's gone again, moving over to serious looking girl with auburn hair and a prominent scowl.

I stand there a little bewildered, unsure of what to do now. Glancing around the room I observe the groups talking together, whether with animated looks of interest or long looks of suffering, obviously only keeping the conversation going for the sake of formality. Everyone is partnered up both willingly and unwillingly and I cringe at the idea of barging into any of those conversations. Well I guess I'll just wait, for someone to finish with their introductions and move on to the next person, preferably me so I don't just stand here in the center of them room looking like some awkward lighthouse.

Resignedly I move to the side of the room, ignoring the people chattering, to take in the architecture. A surprisingly simple chandelier is situated in the center of the room giving off bright and cheery candlelight, illuminating a painted mural of angels and demons sprawled across the low domed ceiling. The ceiling gives way to cream colored walls, while mahogany wood frames the arched entryways, the floors remain the same veined marble as in the hallway. There are six entryways, the two on opposite sides of the room are larger than the others and are covered with similar velvet red curtains. It's simply elegant and a mundane form of classy.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a figure move in the shadow of one of the entryways. Snapping to attention I focus my gaze there and unsurprisingly make contact with a pair of dark grey eyes. A person, obviously, hopefully, I really hope it's not something else. Hesitantly making my way over to the entryway, I'm surprised as a figure smoothly emerges from the shadows, I assumed that if they were trying to keep themselves hidden they'd be a little more reluctant to show themselves, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

"Hello," he greets calmly, holding a hand out to me which I taking immediately suiting my own personality to his serious demeanor. We shake professionally and I'm bitterly reminded of my father and older brothers, that was how they always seemed to greet me; no hugs or kisses, just curt handshakes. But none of them ever wore gloves like this boy does, standard leather, that conforms to the skin and is easy to move in. A detective's gloves, a criminal's gloves. "It's nice to meet you, my name is El-Dean, Dean Elias."

* * *

**Elias Dean**

**Ultimate International Lucky Student**

* * *

"You're a foreigner?" I ask politely, resisting the urge to pull my hand out of his grip, irrationally uncomfortable. There's a pit of suspicion in my stomach, though the reason I can't fathom, only that it's connected to this boy. After all his talent more than verifies any suspicions I may have, it explains his slightly accented Japanese and the stutter when he was introducing himself. He's probably not used to introducing his surname first, though I've never heard of an _international_ lucky student. So I switch over to the language, "would you prefer I speak English?"

Subtly I take in his appearance, wondering if there were any clues of his nationality that I should have been able to pick up. He's about the same height as Moriai though he lacks the theater actor's slim muscle; this boy looks like he's never cared about being physically fit in the first place. His brown hair is cropped short though it's just long enough that you can see its subtle waves that fall into his stormy grey eyes. He's dressed in what appears to be the uniform I was shown before I got here; a long-sleeved white button down and a black necktie though instead of a brown blazer he wears a sweater vest, matching his ironed brown slacks and generic brown shoes. The only things remotely striking about him are the black gloves he wears on his hands and the cold analytically edge in his eyes. Besides that he's generic, forgettable and plain, a boy that could have been from almost any part of the world.

It'd be best if I don't say that though.

"Yes, American to be precise and no you don't have to," he insists politely in Japanese, his inflection steadily getting better. He drops our hands and I let mine hang limply at my side, resisting the urge to tuck it behind my back. "I'm sure not all of our soon to be classmates will be as linguistically diverse as yourself so it's better if I get used to speaking Japanese," a wry smile. "Besides I've wanted to brush up on it for a long time."

"Suit yourself," I tell him teasingly, glad that the tension has faded, that was just a little too reminiscent of home for my liking. Trying to avoid making the conversation awkward I knit my brows together, trying to keep my voice as polite as possible. "If you don't mind me asking, would you mind explaining your talent? I wasn't aware there was an international lottery."

"Oh that," he murmurs dejectedly, his face falling just a little bit. It's a normal and expected reaction, but I can't help but feel it's a little _unnatural_ unaccompanied by the subtle shifts in the body that usually go with such an expression. To emulate an expression realistically is talent already, but it's nothing special if you can't remember the subtle motions that go with it, something very suspicious indeed. "The international lottery draw only started this year actually," a seemingly genuine performance with a sheepish head rub for good measure. "I don't know if my talent can really be considered, I'm the third person they drew since the first two couldn't speak nor had the aptitude to learn Japanese."

"Well you know what they say," I tell him, putting a finger to my chin, rolling my eyes upward in a mock thinking position, "third times the charm. Who knows maybe it's your luck that _made_ them be pick non-Japanese speakers."

"That's a wonderful way of thinking about it, Miss─?" he trails off, a silent invitation for me to introduce myself.

"Ryouko Moriyama," I tell him in my best American accent, but make a face to show him I'm not really serious about all this. He flinches slightly, but laughs as all the same though I have still pout at that. I switch back to Japanese, "Is my accent really that bad?"

"Not it's fine, better than most actually," he says, his brows scrunching together. "It's just I feel like I've heard it before..."

"Okay, cheesy pick-up lines aside," I tell him jokingly, his face turns deadpan, indulgent but not amused at my joke. "Hey you opened yourself up for that one," I tell him, putting my arms up in defense; he makes an exasperated noise in the back of his throat. "Anyway, you've probably heard my voice before because of talent; I'm here under the title Ultimate Actress."

A pregnant pause.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you," he says apologetically, obviously unsure about how to approach the situation. "I don't really go to the movies often and I've never been one to watch anything but news on TV... So, um sorry..." I just have to snicker at his lame finish.

"No, no, you're good, I actually prefer it this way," I tell him, trying to calm myself. "Media can spread some pretty nasty─"

An explosion goes off behind us.

* * *

**Yesterday**

**Time Unknown**

* * *

"I need you to stall the killings," the hologram spoke flippantly, managing to sound annoyed even through the undertone of static. It was currently in the shape of a busty teenage girl, her face flawlessly done up with makeup and her long hair up in two long, messy pigtails. There was a phone in her hand and she looked positively bored by the current situation.

"B-but Lady J-Junko, they're set to wake up t-tomorrow we can't p-possibly delay─" the other figure in the room stuttered, notably more solid than the other. They were wrapped in a bulky coat with only a pair of unisex sneakers sticking out, their size could have been natural for either a male or female, while their hood was pulled low over the face, hiding their identity and figure, the hysteria in their voice only making it harder to define the person's gender. The hologram seemed unperturbed and merely continued scrolling through her phone before she responded.

"Now's not a good time for me."

"B-but my lady─" the figure cried.

"Listen up," she spoke slowly and menacingly, her expression saying she was absolutely _done_ with this conversation. "The Despair Restoration Program has _failed_. Izuru is no longer under my control; he's been reverted back into Hajime Hinata and no longer has the capacity or talent to return to being a Remnant of Despair. Soon the virus removal system, _that damn Alter Ego,_ will sweep through and eradicate me. It's gathered too much information about me and there are no longer any killing game participants to distract it, it will succeed this time. I won't be there to hold your hand anymore."

The figure kept silent aware that the hologram wasn't done speaking yet.

"It's too dangerous to start anything now, with the killing school trip in shambles the Future Foundation is on high alert for any particularly _despair inducing_ incidents, another killing game would be at the top of their list. They'll be on the museum and inside before any of the fun can begin and we don't want that, _right sweetie_?"

"Y-yes m'lady," the figured stuttered, hopeless against the saccharine in the holograms voice. The girl smiled viciously.

"Exactly, it's been several months and the society has been able to gather that the dead from the killing school trip will be awakening in a few days. It will be the perfect distraction to start. The Future Foundation will be too busy monitoring them no matter how they emerge from their comas so the society will be able to put up appropriate _obstacles_ around the museum for the games to play out. A society member will contact you immediately to when you can start."

"B-but y-you'll officially be gone by then," the figure stuttered, at a loss at what to say, Junko smiled coyly a fake blush spreading on her cheeks.

"Aw, you're worried for me," she cooed girlishly and the figure under the shadows of their hood, blushed intensely. "Don't worry about it, if all goes well I'll be back again, so don't fail, 'kay?"


	3. Chaos, Awkwardness, and Bad Attitudes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part III of the Introductions
> 
> Introductions for our next batch of wonderfully colorful characters. Smoke bombs and birds puns have been thrown in for the heck of it!

Dean's eyes widen in shock as he looks at something over my shoulder, eyes sharpening to a fine, analytical glare. Startled by the sudden change in his aura I spin around to see what all the commotion is about, covering my mouth and nose as a wall of black smoke envelopes us. Cries of alarm went up amidst the smoke and I vaguely register that some people are actually _talking._ In a room rapidly filling with acrid smoke? Smart very smart.

"Ugh, what the hell was she thinking?"

"Is this some kind of test? Bring it on!"

"Uwah, I can't see a thing!"

The sheer ridiculousness of this situation would've been enough to force a laugh out of me if I didn't know that opening my mouth would probably leaving me hacking just as bad as a hyena. Covering my mouth with one hand, I use the other to reach behind me; trying to feel around for the wall as an instinctive search for support, completely forgetting that I had my back to the open entrance hall. Instead of finding a support, I feel around uselessly in empty air eventually stumbling over my own feet when I don't find anything. I'm off-balanced and almost embarrassingly uncoordinated, especially when I manage to trip over my own feet and feel myself falling to the floor.

Except a hand shoots out, lightning fast, latching onto my wrist with a firm grip

Wordlessly Dean pulls me back onto my feet and though I can't see him quite clearly, my eyes narrow in suspicion. The smoke is rapidly thinning out despite there being no obvious vents (kudos to the engineer behind this place) and since I'm standing fairly close to him I notice the small things that seem to change his personality entirely. Just a moment ago his entire posture was lax, yet polite and he held his stance with slight apprehension and sheepishness, understandable for our former situation. Now his posture is coiled and ridged, his jaw tight with concentration as his fierce gaze practically cuts through the thinning smoke. Those aren't the kind of eyes your average teenage boy has; they understand and they're knowledgeable. It's the kind of gaze you'd expect to see on a veteran solider or an analytical mastermind, trust me I've played enough of those to have a general idea at the very least.

"Are you alright?" Dean asks quietly, still seemingly high strung even though the smoke has cleared for the most part. It doesn't take much to make someone tense at the sight of something as telltale as smoke, it only takes one traumatic childhood incident with fire to do it. That makes me wonder what Dean might have seen during his life, it could be the simplest domestic problem or it could be something worthy of one of my movies, an intriguing thought in and of itself.

"Hey respond, did the smoke affect your brai─?" Dean asks, rasping lightly on my skull in an obviously teasing manner, but there's an undertone of concern. At the same moment I push his hand away a figure comes hurtling towards us, effectively cutting off Dean's sentence. Startled I feel a pair of arms wrap around me waist, swinging me around in front of them as if to use me as a shield. I awkwardly try to pry the tanned, decidedly feminine arms around my waste, glancing at Dean for help; my eyebrows twitching in annoyance. His expression has mellowed out quite a bit from earlier and he's gazing over the scene with another calm expression, though I don't have much trouble seeing the badly concealed amusement just beneath the surface.

"Dean-san, you know helping me would the thing to do ri─" I start of sarcastically only to be _cut off_. How rude.

"Homura, you _bitch_! How dare you!?" A high voice shrieked, drawing the attention of the entire entrance hall. A girl is storming towards us, looking like an enraged angel, or she would have if she didn't look like someone had dumped a bucket of coal on her. Her small doll like mouth was set into a deep frown, with her teeth biting deep into her lower lip while her fists were curled in rage, it would have been intimidating is she was just a _little_ taller. This girl just barely scraped by five feet and even if she did have a thin, model figure, she just really couldn't pass as truly intimidating with those looks. As she stormed up to me (well _us_ in this situation, I guess) her long, pale blonde hair trailed behind her in an icy curtain, the ends curling enviably and its color illuminating her big, lapis blue eyes. She's dressed rather fashionably in an elegant black shirt and matching skirt that flutters around her legs coupled with a pair of designer black boots, there was a grey jacket draped haphazardly over her right arm. Despite her height, her looks alone could've made he look at home on a runway, well if she wasn't covered in soot that is. Her entire body is covered in a thin layer of black dust, except her arms which are spotless and a vaguely arm shaped spot across her eyes, that's when I realize that the jacket isn't grey; it must have formerly been white.

Great now I have a pissed of Barbie charging towards me and some random girl had her arms wrapped around my waist, just how do I manage to get myself into these situations?

"Move it, trash," the short girl bites out viciously, looking murderous. For a moment it take my mind to connect what she just said and believe me I would've been all too happy to untangle myself from this stranger _if_ she hadn't said that. You could call it a pet peeve of mine; I just generally dislike the slurs along the lines of "useless" and "trash." Trust me I've heard and read more than my fair share of profanity, and _nothing_ rubs me the wrong way quite like importance denouncing insults. I'll wager a guess it's because they hit way too close to my childhood insecurities for comfort. My reasons don't have to be focused around me though, it's rude to go saying that to a person you just met, no matter what their appearance or soon to be revealed personality. Oh wait she's still speaking, "─nothing do with this. Now step aside you bland dressing, side show."

"Excuse me?" I ask her, the epitome sweet and polite, though I can feel my eye twitching and I'm literally two insults away from causing a scene that would leave the media buzzing for _months_. Oh I can see it now; "Japan's TV Sweetheart Traumatizes Equally Famous Classmate at Introduction Ceremony! Pictures Inside!" Oh gosh for some reason the idea amuses me; I almost want to urge her on to see what happens. I might have done it too, if only I hadn't remembered that something like that would probably get me expelled or at the very least severely reprimanded, what a shame, it's been a long time since I was able to crack down on any rude bitches. Maybe a polite plea for clarification will make it all better. A polite smile, patient eyes and a mildly threatening head tilt should suffice. "Did you just call me a bland dressing, side show?"

She makes an unapologetic sound and rolls her eyes, crossing her arms haughtily as she looks away. Well there's no misinterpreting going on anymore it's obvious where this conversation is headed. On the bright side, this girl's attitude is at least refreshing. It gets really dull when everyone's too afraid to tell you their honest opinion in fear that you'll slander their family name so badly it'll still be in affect three generation later. Me, do something like that? Pfft, come on I'm _way_ too mature for that, I think, it's never happened before at least...

 _Moving on_...

"Obviously," she drawls out, glancing down at her nails nonchalantly, not even bothering to look at me anymore. I feel my eyebrows furrow together in exasperation even as her eyes finally glance back up at me; judging and disdainful. As if to prove a point she tosses her long, pale hair, creating the illusion of wind sifting through it; creating a dramatic and highly unnecessary background that is strangely intimidating. Slightly uncomfortable with the strange gleam in her eyes, I glance down at myself to see if I'm dressed in such a way that would be worthy of her demonic glaring.

It's not exactly the usual elegant glamour that I've made myself known for in the media, but it can't be _that_ bad. I've dressed pretty casual for today's meeting, in my head it seems obvious that if I showed on the first day looking like I'm going to walk the red carpet everyone here will be expecting it all that time, and I'm just not down for that. I felt pretty laid back today, and it shows through my choice of clothing; a simple, white, long sleeved v-neck paired with a high-waisted black skirt, I've donned a pair of comfortable, knee-high, lace-up boots (standard black), with my white socks peeking out ever so slightly. I've topped it all off with an open, black vest; a signature fashion statement of mine that is surprisingly well received despite being slightly outdated. Overall I don't think I look all that bad, definitely not bad enough to garner such a rude look, but Miss Judgmental seems to have plenty to say.

"Monochrome color choice to avoid nauseating color match-ups, classic, but oh so very boring," she drawls lightly, and I want to point out her own clothes, but she just plows on. "Standard cutesy, shirt and skirt pair up; not exactly horrid, but frankly quite normal, your boots give a bit of an edge, but they're too rugged, definitely not very high fashion, socks are plain, no design to be seen and vests haven't been popular for _months_. Like I said it's acceptable yes, but oh so very bland," she gives me the stink eye, the admittedly brilliant blue of her eyes only seeming to heighten her annoyance, "a bland outfit, fitting of what's probably a bland talent."

"Now that's a bit ru─" Dean tries to cut in, but I beat him to the punch. Somehow I manage to pry the arms around me off and I take a small step forward, poised with saccharine dripping from my lips.

"And who might you be _exactly_?" the underlying threat should be clear.

"Arita Yumi, I don't expect someone so low-class to know the name, but if I'm going to be stuck with you lot," she says regally, stretching herself to her full height (still pretty short) with an air of superiority, glancing over her shoulder to sniff at our soon-to-be classmates as if to emphasize her words, though a good portion of them have already gone back to their previous conversations, " _you'd better remember it._ "

* * *

**Yumi Arita**

**Ultimate Clothes Designer**

* * *

"Oh is that so? Nice to meet you," I drawl lightly, falling into another persona as easy as breathing. I hold out a hand to her, my smile a lot more taunting now and Arita glances down at it disdainfully, but takes me hand in hers all the same. The tension rolls off of us in waves and I take almost vindictive pleasure in my following statement, "Moriyama Ryouko; The Ultimate Actress."

A beat of silence.

Arita abruptly drops my hand, her expression lacking composure as she bows her head, I almost smile at the whiplash I must have given her, serves her right really. Well I would have been if she didn't suddenly toss her head back, emitting a haughty laugh and she looks over me with something akin to pity, her eyes mocking as she covers her mouth with one hand as an obviously fake, demure gesture.

"So that's what you look like without makeup," she chortles, her holier than though aura already set back in place. In an almost comforting gesture she puts her unoccupied hand on my shoulder patting, me sympathetically. "Sweetie, listen to me, you should really stick with it. You're not striking enough to pull off the no makeup look, darling. Take it from an expert."

Commencing cat fight in 3... 2... 1...

"Whoa, whoa hooold up!" a brash voice cries behind me; whoa I nearly forgot this wasn't exactly a "private conversation," not with Dean and mystery girl standing to the side and listening in. Annoyed both of our gazes flicker towards the distraction and I'm slightly taken aback by the bright colors radiating off this girl. Her hair is an explosion of hot pink and red-orange, locks flying everywhere and defying gravity, almost as if they have a will of their own except for some strands that have been tamed with a yellow, triangular hair clip. The fiery colors of her hair compliment her caramel-brown skin dotted with freckles, giving her a very warm and striking appearance, though the bold colors distract from most of her other features. Her eyes are small and framed by dark, sooty lashes, their icy blue color a stark contrast against the skin of her long oval-shaped face. She's donned a cropped leather jacket over what seems to be a hot pink tank top that hugs her rather generic figure, which paired them up with surprisingly plain jean shorts, though her orange belt buckle is quite a fashion statement. Her socks match what seems to be her color scheme; knee high and startling hot pink and red, a fiery contrast to her charcoal black combat boots.

Something tells me that Arita doesn't approve of her sense of style either.

"Now you decide to speak up!?" Arita cries shrilly, waving her grey jacket in her arms wildly, that's when I notice that this other girl is also covered in a fine powdering of soot. Backing away slowly I stand next to Dean and nudge his arm slightly, as he looks down at me I jerk my head at the two, now bickering girls, silently questioning if he knows what's going on. Unfortunately all I get is a terse head shake. I glance back up, wondering just how someone as small and fragile looking as Arita can be so confrontational. These two seem to have a lot more bad blood between them for some reason.

"You told me to do it!" the tanned girl cries annoyed, pointing a finger accusingly at Arita.

"Who in their right mind would actually do it?" Arita shrieks back, flapping her jacket around and pushing it into the other's girl's face looking murderous. "This jacket is made from high-class fabrics that most people will never touch in their _lives._ The separate materials cost more than the average person's annual salary! It's one of my favorites, and now you've gone a ruined with your stupid, smoke bomb, which is ridiculous for you to have on your person anyway!"

"Hey it's my talent! Of course I'd take your challenge seriously," the girl counters, stomping her foot for emphasis.

"You dim-witted, cow!" Arita screams, making the girl roll her eyes as if silently praying to end deity out there to stop this madness.

"You're seriously degenerating to insults?"

"You're questioning me because you can't think of anything better!" Arita crows victoriously, only to fall silent as the other girl flicks something silver out of her jean pocket. Curiously I lean forward to get a better look, but Dean puts a hand on my shoulder, eyes scrunched together as if he's trying to figure something out. Dejectedly I lean pack, amusing myself by counting the shades of color that drain from Arita's face as the silver thing flashes between the tanned girl's hands threateningly, a knife perhaps? No too small, maybe a needle or something, I can't really tell since the object seems to blur between its owner's hands.

"Walk away now, Arita," she says strangely businesslike, the silver thing continues to flash between her hands. Arita splutters and stumbles back, throwing all of us (yes including Dean who hasn't done anything wrong technically) a nasty glare before retreating to try and scrub the remaining soot off her and try to shake it off her jacket. As the blonde girl leaves, the other one turns to us with a slightly sheepish smile as she rubs the back of her neck, the silver thing was obscured by her other hand which was clenched in a tight fist at her side.

"Sorry about that," she chirps apologetically, approaching us hesitantly as she laughs awkwardly. "Getting you involved I mean, especially since Arita isn't the nicest person..."

"She certainly is... dynamic," Dean tries to compromise, seemingly reluctant to speak ill of the Arita, I wonder why... Charmed by her looks perhaps? Or maybe he's just a gentleman, well if wonders never cease, I thought those had gone extinct a long time ago, but that's just an optimistic guess, he could very well be charmed by her appearance. Apparently, noticeably short girls with a tsun attribute are pretty popular with guys (both geeks and normal) nowadays. Be it either, his effort is commendable, though there are specific times when sugarcoating isn't that bad, too bad I call it as I see it.

"I don't like her," I deadpan, crossing my arms for good measure. Dean throws me a reprimanding look, but there's no actual heat behind his gaze, definitely just giving her the benefit of the doubt. The girl laughs though, a full bodied sound that has her throwing her head back and releasing several peals of laughter before subsiding into a light chuckle and throwing me a conspiratorial smirk.

"Don't worry there are few who disagree," she stage whisperers, turning around with her arms spread wide to motion to the entire entrance hall. "Arita's been giving out fashion critique like it's her job, not many people like her at the moment."

"I don't have trouble believing that, especially with _that_ bad attitude," I mutter out darkly, unsure if I'm crossing into the border of _too_ rude. It's one of my more obvious flaws; I often flicker between being too conscious of what others around me think to speak my mind or I take my comments just a little too far. Neither have very satisfactory repercussions.

"Oh my name is Dean Elias, Ultimate International Lucky Student and this young lady as stated earlier is Moriyama Ryouko, the Ultimate Actress," Dean suddenly says, pointing between the two of us politely, his words coming out slightly choppy. He's got a pretty good vocabulary so I often forget that he probably translating every sentence from English to Japanese in his head, it's some very admirable flexibility. Now if only he didn't say everything with such a deadpan expression, "Um, it's a little late to ask, but could you introduce yourself?

"Oh yeah got a bit carried away there," she tells them, flashing a broad grin before holding out both hands for Dean and I to shake. "Name's Homura Kaede, and I'm the Ultimate Pyromaniac! Nice ta meetcha!"

* * *

**Kaede Homura**

**Ultimate Pyromaniac**

* * *

"Well that's an interesting title," I tell her, my voice lilting and amused; explains the fire motif to her appearance at the very least, though I'm a little wearier of her now since she's already shown she's more than capable of using her talent with only slight provocation. Inhaling sharply I glance at her pocket where she must have stashed the silver object from earlier, pulling both Homura's and Dean's attention to me. "You wouldn't happen to have a lighter on you right now, would you?"

"Erm, yeah," she admits, looking dubious as she flicks the lighter from her pocket once more and shows it to the two of us. Simple and silver, not to mention capable of killing us all with one fell swoop, but I have confidence that Homura was more than capable of keeping herself in check, or at least I really, really hope so...

"So you really are the one who set of the smoke bomb earlier," Dean comments dryly, causing Homura to snicker apologetically.

"Y-yeah, Arita told me that I wouldn't dare, and I just couldn't back down from that challenge, y'know?" she told them, rolling her eyes at the thought and waves one of her hands dismissively. "It was only a minor one anyway, no strong enough to considered lethal at all. No one would've gotten hurt anyway."

I really want to point out how dark that smoke had been, but abstain from it since I'd probably make a fool of myself. I know very little about smoke in general, much less smoke bombs and if that's what Homura is saying I'll take word for it since she's the pyromaniac here, definitely not me.

"Homura-san, was that smoke bomb of years homemade? And if you did, how'd you manage to make its detonation so loud?" Dean asks lightly, seemingly genuinely curious. Homura pauses for a moment before breaking out into a wide, cheeky grin.

"Yup! Made it myself, the real kick to it is─" Homura begins animatedly, obviously in her element as she prepares to rant, but she's abruptly cut off intercom nearest to us crackling to life. Startled the three of us turn towards it only to find it's not just an intercom, but an entire little black monitor. The screen stays shut off even though the speakers are suddenly speaking in a light and slightly sarcastic voice that somehow seems to sound mocking despite its initial bright and sunny tone.

"Ahem, this time is designated for your to get to know _all_ you classmates, not just have idle chitchat! Quit stalling and move on to the next person!" The announcement is almost immediately cut off by a burst of static as the speaker turns off once more. Obviously targeted at us since it seems that all the other monitors have stayed quiet, come to think of it there are a surprising number for them strewn about the entrance hall, placed strategically so that they aren't that distinguishable against the walls despite the color contrast. Why there would need to be so many in a single room, remains a complete mystery to me.

"Well it doesn't take a genius to guess who they're talking to," Dean grumbles and I want to snicker at is petulant tone, but the sound immediately dies in my throat as I meet his once again stoic face. Seriously this guy has a poker face straight out of hell. "See you two later."

Without another word he turns around to stride purposefully to a tall boy wearing a pair of goggles, standing by himself on the other side of the entrance hall.

"Well guess it's just you and me Homu─"

"Arrighty, let's do this! See ya, Moriyama!" the girl in question said loudly, throwing a random fist pump in the air. Stunned I watch as she literally throws herself towards a group of boys; who greet her with a mixture of rather unintelligent guffaws and sniffs of annoyance, but definitely don't reject her. Awkwardly I cross my arms and straighten my back, regaining some semblance of my usual composure before another sarcastic voice speaks behind me.

"Tsk, and I thought Nanto was too loud, what a bother."

"Oh, but I think Nanto-san's nice," I tell her sweetly, not even bothering to glance back at the person at first, I've had enough of getting caught off guard for one day so I'll slow down the pace and get back into character. Serenely I tuck my hands behind my back and turn towards the newcomer, an almost smug smile on my lips as I turn towards her, leaning forward in a teasing manner before putting a finger to my lips in thought. "And Homura-san's not that bad either."

"I never said they weren't nice," the girl deadpans, rolling bright red eyes. They're almost the exact same shade as Nanto's except while the tall astronomer's glowed with exuberance and life, this girl's were stoic and showed only hints of emotion though an almost default hostility shone through. Something that made itself known as she glared daggers at me, obviously displeased, "You don't have humor me so haughtily."

"I'm doing no such thing," I sing teasingly, leaning back. See this is much better, when I'm calm I can flit from personality to personality as easy as breathing, it's easier to keep my mind thinking and tongue sharp, not to mention I can take everything in stride, though I've been told numerous times how annoying it can be if you're on the receiving end of it. Not like I can help it though.

"So you're another one of those troublesome, superior types," the girl murmured scowling, one of her hands going up to play with the end of her ponytail. I follow the motion subtly with my eyes, also using the opportunity to size this new girl up. Her hair is a rich auburn color, pulled back into a neat and efficient ponytail that keeps the strands from falling into bright red eyes. She has quite the school girl aesthetic going on with her plaid, red necktie to go with her short-sleeved, white dress shirt coupled with a matching plaid skirt; her clothes accentuate her feminine figure, her ample bosom in particular. Her choice of footwear is just as feminine, displayed in her choice of black, ankle high boots adorned with white ribbons and black stocking that just barely graze her knees. Despite her almost delicate choice of clothing my eyes zero in on the details that just scream that this girl is a force to be reckoned with. Her limbs are lined with subtle muscle and her hands are noticeably calloused, they're not the kind you get from sports and instruments, but the sort of unavoidable kind you can't avoid while doing physical labor. Excuse me for the rather poetic sum up, but I can't help but get the 'steel wrapped in silk' kind of vibe from her, without a doubt someone you don't want to mess with.

"That's a rather unfair stereotype, wouldn't you say?" I continue to goad despite my evaluation, not the smartest move ever I'll admit. Disregarding the tension in the air and my companion's obviously miffed expression, I hold out a hand to her and easy smile splaying on my lips. "Maybe an introduction will change your mind? Name's Moriyama Ryouko─"

"Ultimate Actress, yeah, yeah we all know," she cuts in blithely, rolling her eyes in annoyance and waving a dismissive hand, though she shakes my hand anyway. I bite my lip to keep from correcting her as she continues, "Akiyama Seika, if you keep your ego in check Miss Popularity we'll get along just fine."

* * *

**Seika Akiyama**

**Ultimate Knife Thrower**

* * *

"First a pyromaniac and now a knife thrower..." I murmur mainly to myself. The next three years are going to be very interesting indeed, with dynamic personalities like Arita and Nanto coupled by people with some very _hazardous_ talents like Homura and Akiyama, I can already picture the warzone Hope's Peak Academy is going to become while out batch is around.

"Did you say something?" Akiyama snaps as a scowl twists on her lips.

"No, nope, nothing of interest, Akiyama-san," I tell her blithely, waving my hands in flustered innocent motions to try and get my point across. It is overkill? Probably, and with the way her eyes narrow dangerously, it's just a little too obvious she thinks the same. Nonetheless I narrow my own eyes to match, my smile turning into something more of a smirk at the ensuing staring contest, which ends about a minute later as Akiyama breaks eye contact to place on hand on her head and rub her temples wearily. She glances back at me with acid in her gaze.

"This is why I hate people like you, I can never tell if you're genuine or not," she murmurs quietly, and from the almost faraway look in her eyes accompanied by the way she pulls her arms close to her body almost defensively it's not hard to tell this is something she's passionate about. I wasn't that bad, right? I don't think I said anything too bad, in the first place...

"Hey, you're being kind of prejudiced right now─" I say, feeling my brows furrow together as I try to defend myself, but Akiyama cuts me off.

"Your title isn't for nothing right?" she hisses, eyes glazed over and not completely with me as she continued speaking. "Giving it a pretty name like 'actress' doesn't change what you're capable of. You'd be more than capable of becoming a deceiver or manipulator, a liar at your very core. How much of you is actual emotion? How much of your sweet charade is true while the rest of you is just smoke and mirrors? The thing about people like you is that we never know what's going on through your head because on the outside you're wonderful, you're kind, you understand. For all we know you're just another judgmental bitc─"

"Well I'm sorry if you think that," I cut her of coolly. Surprisingly she seems to deflate rather easily under my no nonsense tone, looking even a tad apologetic, not that that's going to make me hold my tongue anyway. "And listen I'm not sure who you're basing all the assumptions off of, but I'd appreciate it if you learned to separate us into two different entities because I am not in the mood to be judged over the profession I excel in. Could you do that, sweetheart? Yeah? Then please do so."

A beat of tension filled silence.

"I-I'm sorry," Akiyama finally manages to get out, looking almost crestfallen with the sudden turn of events and I'm pleasantly surprised that she's conceding so easily.

"It's fine," I tell her nonchalantly, waving a hand to express that it's all water under the bridge now, and I'm surprisingly, genuinely happy that we were able to end that on a peaceful now.

Now if only we could do something about this cloying awkwardness...

"Well, I guess that's all for now?" I cut in smiling pleasantly, hoping and praying that I don't sound rude. Honestly etiquette classes need to branch out more, it's all well and good to be able to rub elbows with the members from the higher echelons of society, but there's so very little that I've been able to apply to the ragtag group of people I've just encountered, and I haven't even met half of my classmates. Akiyama's eyebrows give a twitch in what's probably either confusion or annoyance as I continue frankly, "I don't mean to be rude, I assure you. It's just, well I haven't been able to meet many people just yet, and I'd really hate to be the last person to finish, what an embarrassing thought..."

"Tch, you can say if you want to stop talking to me," Akiyama says with a roll of her eyes, holding up a hand when I try to protest in my defense. "I guess I'll take you up on that offer, after all the faster I finish with these shitty introductions, the faster I can get away from you lot."

"I'm really not sure if I should be offended by that..." I say half-teasingly as Akiyama turns around to leave, but to my surprise she calls something over her shoulder.

"Don't go assuming shit with me, Moriyama! Because unlike you I'll _tell_ people if they're a fucking bother, so you don't have to try and guess."

"Language, young lady!" I call after her, taking up a standard admonishing pose. Yes I did that; I literally planted my left hand on my hip, and leaned forward, shaking a finger in Akiyama's direction as I shoot of random etiquette rules before I hear Akiyama groan in the back of her throat.

"Screw you, mom!" she calls back, flipping me the bird over her shoulder, but there's no malice behind the gesture, just playful camaraderie. I just have to roll my eyes at that.

"Huh, that was surprisingly invigorating," I mumble to myself, not quite sure if the smile curling around my face is the remnant of the persona I assumed or a genuine reaction to what had just occurred. Either way I pleasantly surprised that it's still hanging on, so I might as well make the most of it by mingling while I'm still in a good mood. Swiftly I let my eyes roam across the room, trying to find someone I can engage a conversation with, but everyone seems to be occupied at the moment. That is until I catch sight of Dean's familiar sweater vest, he's walking away from his earlier companion and doesn't look like he's going to pull his hair out by the roots so I guess this one can't be that bad.

Swiftly I make my way over to that sire of the room to approach the boy, making a quick assessment of his mannerisms and appearance.

This boy is probably one of the tallest in the room, being noticeably taller than Nanto who I assume is the tallest girl and practically being a male equivalent to her skinniness, his frame being extremely lanky to boot. For his rather demeaning appearance he has a surprisingly weak aura around him, not in a 'please don't notice' but something that's more akin to 'I have no idea what I'm doing' kind of vibe. His glove covered hands are clasped together and his slightly obscured eyes flick about almost suspiciously. He's wearing an open, dark green jacket over a white t-shirt couple with plain black pants and shoes, which would be considered extremely normal if it weren't for the rest of his outfit. The brown gloves he's wearing appear to be handling gloves that extend to his forearms and cover up the sleeves of his jacket, coupled with a pair or wind resistant goggles that obscure his eyes and the dominate his face, though I do see a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose. Almost as if to complete the rugged look he wears his roughly shoulder length, dark brown hair in a short, choppy, but efficient ponytail. If I were to take a guess at his talent, I'd have to be on some kind of animal handling because those gloves of his look well worn, by what I can't really tell, but I know they've got sharp _something_.

"Hiya!" I call to him, bounding forward. I think an outgoing, bubbly and sweet personality would go best for this situation since this boy seems so painfully uncomfortable by my sudden presence, I guess I'll just have to drag him out of his shell the hard way.

"Um, hello," he murmurs awkwardly, barely even looking me though that's not very difficult to do considering his height, all he has to do is focus on some point high above my head. But that won't do now, will it?

"Hey it's common courtesy to at least look at the person, you know," I tell him, letting a controlled amount of annoyance seep into my tone and a slight pout make its way onto my lips. At that he stiffens, finally glancing down at me and beneath those goggles his eyes appear to be some shade of green though the lens are too tinted for me to be exact. "My name's Moriyama Ryouko!"

"Ah, it's nice to meet you. I hope we can stay on friendly terms with each other," he murmurs quietly while holding out a hand for me to shake, looking away as if he's ashamed of it. He doesn't meet my gaze as he says his name, instead opting to raise his shoulders apprehensively and ducking his head even more. "My name's Hayato Kenshin, I'd prefer it you called me Ken though."

* * *

**Kenshin Hayato**

**Ultimate Bird Keeper**

* * *

"Well so do I, though I'm going to stick with your family name for now, Hayato-kun," I tell him lightly as I shake his hand, adding almost as an afterthought, "I want to avoid conflict as much as possible after Arita-san..."

"Arita," he ponders for a moment, letting our handshake fall before his eyes finally clear with recognition. "Is that the short dramatic girl from earlier, the one all hysterical about her jacket?"

"Yep, that's her," I confirm, an impish grin spreading on my lips at his choice of description. Hayato's eyebrows scrunch together in thought, before a grimace makes its way onto his lips and I nearly laugh at his sour expression, but I bite my tongue because that would rude, right, especially when he looks so uncomfortable about the topic.

"I don't really look forward to getting acquainted with her," he murmured, looking slightly queasy at the prospect. I motion for him to go on when he pauses and he continues in precise, clipped words, his eyes flicking about as if he's worried she'll hear him and blow up in his face. "It's just she seems so emotional and _eugh_ I'd think everything she says and does would be way over my head."

"Definitely not literally," I tell him, gesturing to his tall frame, actually managing to make him crack a smile.

"Oh you know what I mean," his eyes cloud over as if he's wondering if he should do something, but then they clear and their a small knowing, but very unsure smile on his face. "I don't think my introduction with her will be very _pheasant_." I nod my head in understanding until the implications of his sentence hit me.

"Oi, oi, oi was that a bird pun?" I demand loudly, smacking his arm for emphasis though I'm laughing already. Hayato grins sheepishly, but continues anyway.

"Yup, you're _heron_ me right," he continues as I try to glare at him through my peals of laughter. He looks embarrassed and dorky, pink dusting over his cheeks even though he looks wholly unapologetic with the awful jokes.

"Well _toucan_ play that game!" I reply, nearly cringing at it myself.

"That's such a common one! Well, never mind _o_ _wl_ continue anyway."

"So it's not my _tern_?" I cut him off before he can continue with his pun, making his eyes widen comically as I finally pull a real laugh out of him. Both of us are smiling like school children now and I just have to laugh because it's so childish, but oh so very refreshing too.

"Are you sure you want to continue, everyone loses to me _wren_ they try to beat me at bird puns," Hayato informs me looking smug.

"You're ruffling my feathers with your lack of faith, Hayato-kun," I sing, bookmarking everything bird related in my lexicon, yes even phrases.

" _Geese_ , I'll just have to show you why I'm the reigning champion."

"Why was I not invited to join the bird puns?" a new voice pipes up behind Hayato.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did I just write? Honestly I have no clue at all... Anyway Dean stuck around for a lot longer than expected which is as much news to me as it is to you so I can't really explain it myself, but I really did enjoy writing this chapter even though I ran into so many roadblocks.
> 
> Since we have a slightly larger than usual cast I'll be trying to put at least four introductions into every chapter, though I feel like chapters this long with mainly just descriptions and fleshing out personalities are a bit bulky so I cut them into segments so that you guys don't get to overwhelmed. As for personalities, I'm so sorry if some of them seem OOC, though this is just an introduction so of course good and bad traits will be explored as the story progresses.
> 
> If you see any mistakes please feel to point them out and please be very specific because I have a hard time spotting them myself and you don't know how much trouble Microsoft Word gave me for those bird puns…


	4. Famous, Charismatic, and Unsettling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV of the Introductions
> 
> Some pretty dynamic characters going about for this chapter. Exercise is mentioned, beware.

In response to the voice I stifle my laughter and straighten my back, glancing over Hayato's shoulder to sneak a glance at the person who had just spoken. The person smiles warmly at me, flicking a strand of long strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder. I can't help but feel like this isn't my first time seeing her, though I can't quite put my finger on it before she casually walks up to us, an infectious bubbly aura radiating off her. Hayato, on the other hand stiffens and fidgets at the new presence, hunching his shoulders as if in an attempt to make himself seem smaller.

I step in front of Hayato nonchalantly, it's obvious he's uncomfortable and since I think I can safely assume I'm better in these kinds situations than he is, and would _like_ to consider myself his friend I guess I'll take over from here. Honestly though, how did I not notice he was so anxious before? Oh, and for the record, the irony of this situation is not lost on me. Here I am; a girl with average at best height, casually standing in front of a six-footer as if I'm his bodyguard, okay so I'm not very menacing... But that's beside the point! In the corner of my eye I notice a familiar head of navy-violet hair standing behind the strawberry blonde haired girl.

"Sorry about the sudden intrusion," Moriai apologized sheepishly with a polite bow, gesturing over to his companion. I nod brightly at him, and feel his eyes narrow in return, but pretend I notice nothing. "She saw you and wanted to meet you, and then she heard the puns and well..."

"I'm kinda _bittern_ about it really. I should be the first to be informed on any bird pun related situations," she whispered to them conspiratorially, puffing out her cheeks as she picked up Moriai's trailed off sentence. The pun is enough to pull a startled laughed from me while it makes Hayato's mouth twitch, though he still seems a tad uncomfortable. The girl breaks out into an easy grin, and I give her a once over trying to figure out why she's so familiar. Everything about her seems to glow in some upbeat optimism; from the way she impatiently brushes away the stray strawberry blonde locks that fall into her warm brown eyes, to the bright, natural smile that spreads across her face, accentuating the small birthmark on her left cheek positively. She's on the taller side of average for a female, and her build is nothing too striking either, but she's dressed pretty fashionably, heck she might even get Arita's approval, though she might think it's a bit too hipster. This girl's figure is adorned in a knee-length, ruffled blue dress paired up with a pair of elegant black flats. As if to match the high class theme going on, her hands are adorned with fingerless white gloves, and a shiny gold watch glints on her left wrist. The only thing throwing off her classy vibe is the oversized black jacket thrown over the ensemble, though she wears it naturally like she always does. Wait, what? I'm getting a severe sense of deja vu here...

I know this person, her names right on the tip of my tongue...

"Wait a minute," I mutter, narrowing her eyes and looking her up and down once more for good measure. "Imamura Chisato, right?"

"Whoa! You know who I am!" Imamura cried, blushing slightly as she curtsies, spreading out the ruffled end of her dress. Yup, there's no mistaking it at this point, the friendly confidence mixed in with the subtle, well-hidden shyness and anxiety, there's not a doubt she's the vlogger that the internet has been going nuts over since she first started putting up videos a couple years ago. She strikes a familiar smile and pose, flashing her dimples, "Yup, I'm Imamura Chisato! Nice to meet you!"

* * *

**Chisato Imamura**

**Ultimate Vlogger**

* * *

I would roll my eyes if this weren't so reminiscent of myself.

"Likewise, oh, and this is Hayato Kenshin, the Ultimate Bird Keeper, he likes to go by Ken though," I tell her exuberantly, thumping Hayato lightly on the back for good measure. He flinches while letting out an indignant squawk (which I find hilariously ironic,) though it's more out surprise than anything else. Ignoring Hayato's embarrassed mumbling I sweep my arms about in a single grandiose gesture towards Moriai, "And over there is Moriai Ayane, Hayato-kun. I met him earlier; he's the Ultimate Theater Actor!"

I think I actually managed to make Moriai's eye twitch in annoyance.

Meanwhile Hayato glances between Imamura and I obviously trying to figure out how we know each other, and it suddenly strikes me why he didn't show any noticeable recognition when I introduced my name besides anxiety. Hayato _is_ very shy, and considering his talent he definitely doesn't seem like a shut in that'd spend most of his time on the internet, so I guess it's not too farfetched to assume he spends so much time outdoors with his birds that he doesn't really keep up with the media. Well at least we know he's joining us without any prejudice. Oh right, rude to leave Imamura hanging, after all she's not a stranger to me, in fact, she's someone _I_ know through the media exclusively.

"And of course I know who you are!" I spin back to face Imamura, flashing an equally brilliant grin. "I watch your videos!" It's not a lie either; Imamura is really brilliant and one of the few people here who I'd vouch for on the spot in terms of talent. Imamura's videos were pure gold, motivational and hilarious at the same time, and just made you feel so light inside. Not to mention she was oh so very original, managing to hit all her viewers' main request, yet stay true to what felt right to her as a performer.

"That's a huge deal!" Imamura said, her brown eyes going wide as Moriai shuffled awkwardly behind her. "Not too long ago I did an entire video on that movie you starred in, it was... Agh! I-I can't even remember, I've don't too many of review videos for your movies! Plus I'm the closest to being literally star struck right now!"

"Oh come on, you're overreacting," I tell her sweetly, blushing prettily for emphasis. From the corner of my eye I notice Moriai strike up a conversation with Hayato, and smile smugly at the turn of events. Moriai is pretty courteous so he shouldn't be too overwhelming for Hayato, though I do kind of worry their conversation will fade to an awkward silence… I'll just have to put my faith in them that it'll go otherwise! Speaking of conversations, I'm maneuvering my own right now... Right, let's meet Imamura on the energy scale. "Plus we're going to be classmates for the next three years, so it's best we get rid of all these formalities early on!"

"Too true, I guess," she conceded lightly. Something's a little off from the videos though, which is to be expected I suppose, stage personalities never fully capture the essence of a person's character, because sometimes you really have to try and cut off the parts of your personality that really don't blend well with media. It'd be rude to bring it up, but Moriai is giving me that _look_ over Hayato's shoulder (quite a feat since Moriai didn't technically clear bird keeper's shoulder) as if he's daring me to take to tell the truth, and it's disconcertingly intimidating.

"Tactless," I mouth at him, rolling my eyes. If he wants honest, that's the best he's going to get for now. Imamura is glancing at me nervously, looking over her shoulder self-consciously, and awkwardly rubbing her arms. I shoot her a reassuring grin, making a flyaway gesture with my hand. I pat myself on the back for it, just the right comfort and casualness intermingling between the gestures. "Sorry, I didn't mean you."

"I-I, well, all right," she managed to stutter out. She takes a moment to compose herself before leaning in with a teasing, conniving grin. "Hey how do you think Ken-kun and Ayane-kun's conversation is going? I mean, I'm sure they can handle a conversation, but ─"

"See, it really _is_ them! I _told_ you I couldn't be wrong, Daiman! I _absolutely, truly, without a doubt_ wouldn't mistake them!"

Both Imamura and I abruptly snap to attention, eyes going wide. I know that kind of voice, it's hard not to know it when you're surrounded by it whenever you got outside, and I'd gladly take a guess that Imamura has at least some idea as well. A short girl bounds up to us, with an ecstatic grin. She really is short, as in really short, even shorter than Arita short, as in barely scraping past 4 feet short.

She's rather average in build though it comes off more pixyish than anything, to align with her height. Her light brown hair is pulled into a high-ponytail, the end swishing about as she talks exuberantly with grandiose gestures to emphasize her point. She has permanently smiling, aqua blue eyes set into her oval-shaped face, and their color seems to light up all her rather bland features, turning them striking when she smiles. Her skin is tanned, and I don't have much trouble picturing her spending a good portion of the day out in the sun, just being her (evidently) big, bright and bubbly self.

She laughs once more, almost as if she's in shock, but her smile only grows brighter.

Yep, that's the smile, it's a _fan_ smile.

"I'm a big, big, actually _huge_ fan!" she told us happily, exuberantly grabbing my hand and shaking it vigorously. "Katabushi Mitsuyo, Ultimate All-Nighter!"

* * *

**Mitsuyo Katabushi**

**Ultimate All-Nighter**

* * *

"All... Nighter...?" I ask curiously. Well I'm way off mark, I'm guessing her talent has something to do with staying up straight for a whole night, and I don't think you can really get enough vitamin D (as well as UV rays from that) to tan properly. I wonder what's behind that tanned, healthy glow of hers then, she should sell it to some western business tycoon, make a fortune off of it. That being said I can't really picture the talent behind that title. I mean pulling all-nighters is natural, right? Can you actually make a talent out of that?

"Yup, that's right," Katabushi says, flipping her thumbs up in a perky, upbeat gesture. "I can go a week with five hours sleep tops _,_ and you won't be able to tell the difference from my rested self at all. Fatigue doesn't really get to me you know," she finishes off by shrugging offhandedly, as if it's nothing special at all.

Meanwhile Imamura and I gape at her.

To be able to do something like that, that would be the Holy Grail for all busybodies, going an entire week with minimal sleep, and still managing to focus like normal? That's ridiculous, as well as borderline supernatural; does she not understand how much she can get done with that amount of time? Well, then again the title Ultimate isn't just given out willy-nilly; I guess you have to pretty ridiculous to garner such a title...

I don't know if I'm offending myself or not...

"Oh and that's Honda Daiman, don't be fooled by his looks, he's just a big softie," Katabushi added as an afterthought, completely ignoring our stares. Upon hearing her words I glance over to her companion, immediately recoiling in shock when I finally notice him (an incredibly difficult task to fail at, I wonder how distracted I was to miss him.) Honestly, how on earth did I manage to overlook him is the first place?

This 'Daiman' is Katabushi's physical opposite in almost every aspect. He's a grizzly of a man who surpasses even Hayato's height, and is built and burly as he is tall. His frame is rectangular and is rippling with well-toned muscles, a huge leather jacket stretched over a grey muscle shirt to accommodate his broad frame. He's paired them off with large, dark blue cargo pants and high-cut, blue sneakers which honestly aren't really my style (not that it really matters, of course. I'm not Arita after all.) His hair is thick and black, and frames his square-shaped face, and matches the color of his well-trimmed goatee. He's smirking smugly at us, but the aura he's giving off is just as upbeat and enthusiastic as Katabushi. From the smirk spread across his lips, to the lively sparkle in his brown eyes as he rushes to meet us with a boisterous laugh, he's all optimism.

"She's right I suppose," he booms, larger than life and just as loud. I glance between the two newcomers, and smile a little. The two of them don't seem too bad, perhaps a bit loud, but at least it won't be boring. Daiman smiles at Imamura and I before bowing low, and continuing. "It's nice to meet you, fellow classmates! I am the Ultimate Powerlifter, Honda Daiman! It is a pleasure to meet you!"

* * *

**Daiman Honda**

**Ultimate Powerlifter**

* * *

"Should've seen that one coming," I comment dryly, eyeing his frame once more, that was practically a given, honestly I'm quite slow sometimes. Katabushi trills a laugh before covering her mouth like a child who's been told a secret, and wind milling her arms to try and convey her emotions.

"But _still_ , can you believe it, Daiman?" she questions Honda once more, tugging on his sleeve dramatically while her other arms continues to flutter about erratically. "We're going to be in the same batch as _Moriyama Ryouko **and** Imamura Chisato._ They're celebrities! Media idols! And we'll be spending the next three years─"

"Woah, woah, wait up there," Imamura cuts in, smiling kindly as she places a hand on both Katabushi's and Honda's arms. Imamura fidgets as they stare at her blankly, though their smiles seemed pinned to their faces regardless, probably star struck. She glances between them awkwardly before coughing into her fist before continuing, "Like Ryouko-chan said earlier, we _are_ classmates from here on out, it's best we start seeing each other as normal people from now on."

I really want to point out how Honda looks like he could snap me in half.

But I don't, because I'm tactful like that, so I choose to comment on something else instead.

"Why does everyone just add 'chan' to my name?" I ask, obviously teasing. Despite this Imamura turns to me in a flurry of strawberry blonde hair, anxiety written all over her face.

"I-I'm sorry! Was that too familiar? I'm sorry for going ahead and calling you that without permission!"

"Oh come on I was just teasing, in fact, you're free to call me Ryoko-chan," I tell her, letting my head to fall to the side in mock exhaustion, closing my eyes for good measure. I let them stew in suspense for a couple seconds before opening one of my eyes to glance at them and sighing in disappointment "Everyone takes me too seriously to get my jokes."

"Whoo, and I was getting a bit scared there," Katabushi chimes in, a hand splayed over her chest as if to smother a thundering heartbeat.

You cannot even fathom how poetic I feel right now.

"We've got to get you a bit more spine, Mitsuyo!" Honda chortles, crossing his arms with a contemplatively smug smirk on his lip, and I can't help but cringe because it looks like he's planning some kind of training menu. Those things are the absolute bane of my existence, sure I know I need them (the paparazzi would chew me out if I didn't,) but that doesn't mean I like them. I mean _it is **exercise**_. Obviously though my silence is encouraging because Honda thumps me on the back, releasing another one of his booming laughs. "No worries Ryouko-hime, I'll set up a training menu for you as well!"

"Please don't," I mutter quietly. Daiman looks at me in confusion as I close my eyes with a patient sigh, "Don't add the 'hime' honorific to my name, and as much as I'm touched that you would make a training menu for me..." I trail of sheepishly not really wanting to admit it, but then again what the heck they _are_ going to be my classmates, and are bound to find out anyway. So I plaster on a bright smile, "You really don't have to do that!"

"What's this does Ryouko-chan not like exercising?" Katabushi teases lightly, and I have to smile at that. Despite her earlier star struck demeanor she's quickly sinking into comfortable companionship around Imamura and I, and it's a nice feeling. I've never really had friends before, I know people say that politics is a viper pit but I'd say that the media industry is a lot worse. The words can be genuine enough, but at the drop of a hat, a change of the trends, a sudden new shooting, everything can change in a second. Your buddy-buddy best friend is a stranger, your love interest is a rival, and your mentor figure is cursing your guts because you're the more popular celebrity. Politics doesn't change, it's stuck in its ways; playing the same dirty tricks and making the same shaky allies, the media evolves and it's completely impersonal.

I've said it before, but honestly it gets quite lonely eventually.

That's why these people are so refreshing. They aren't part of the media, there's no ulterior motive since we're not all competing for the same role. Here all we're all just talking for the sake of companionship and it's nice, oh so very nice.

"Gahaha, no worries Ryouko-chan!" Honda tells me brightly. "I'm sure you'll quickly build a liking to it eventually!"

"Yeah, yeah Seika-chan's joining in too, and we roped Moriai to at least try it," Katabushi put in with a light smile, and a smug nod. As if realizing something she glanced up a Honda with inquisitive eyes. "Come to think of it Kazawaki-kun managed to avoid the topic completely, curse him and his adorable cat stories..."

"Ha, no worries, we'll manage to rope him into it! If we run into any problems we can rope Saito-san to help, and remember Akiyama-san said not to call her that," Honda admonishes lightly, but he sounds more amused than upset.

"What does Kazue-chan have to do with Kazawaki-kun in the first place? And what Seika-chan doesn't know won't hurt her," Katabushi responds cheekily.

"Hm… Kazue-san did mention she enjoyed exercise…" Imamura chimes in.

"Oh, wait are you guys all done meeting with everyone already?" I ask all three of them lightly, surprise coloring my tone. I don't recognize some of those other names, and these two seem to have no intention of moving on from this conversation after all. Honda and Katabushi look between each other in contemplation before turning back to me. Meanwhile Imamura shakes her head in the universal answer for no.

"Not really," Katabushi says with a sheepish smile, nudging Honda forcefully which causes him to stand up even straighter, nodding his head vigorously before continuing. "We're skipping a few people during the introduction time, so we can wait for better situations to butter up people like Yumi-chan and Ichiro-kun; they've got pretty prickly personalities."

"You seem to know a lot about our classmates, Katabushi-chan," Imamura suddenly cuts in, obviously curious.

"I've been spending years training to get into Hope's Peak Academy, so I did a lot of research on my soon to be classmates when I was finally accepted," Katabushi said with an air of superiority, though it wilts a little as she continues. "It's not like it was particularly difficult, pretty much everyone from our batch is pretty famous. Well, except me..."

"Doesn't really matter if you're famous or not," I comment offhandedly, I don't want to make a big deal of this; it might make Katabushi more insecure. Imamura nods beside me, a mothering and encouraging smile on her lips. "Your talent still sounds pretty amazing."

"Oh you guys," Katabushi says brightly, tackling the two of us in a surprisingly strong bear hug despite her size, "I wasn't really _that_ upset about it, but now I feel like I'm walking on cloud nine!"

"I'm guessing you guys got along pretty well with Nanto-san?" I ask, directing my question more at Honda since Katabushi seems to be drowning in giddiness at the moment. I pretty sure they'd mesh well, all of them having such sunny personalities. Daiman tilts his head inquisitively, stroking his chin as if he's trying to match the name to the face, abruptly Katabushi's head pops up still smiling brightly, but she asks.

"Nanto Hokuto, the Astronomer? Where?"

Craning my neck I look away from present company, scanning the room for the tall girl. My eyes eventually fall on her, only a little ways from us talking to Moriai and Hayato. Moriai seems to be keeping up with Nanto's fast pace with minimal difficulty, but I'm more than happy to see Hayato opening up pretty well to her. Okay, so he looks a twinge harassed, but hey he's smiling and laughing at the very least, so it can't be that bad.

"Over there," I say gesturing to the three, "the girl with pigtails."

"Ooh, she looks like she can crack a couple good jokes," Katabushi said, letting go of Imamura and I as an almost afterthought. Imamura and share a little knowing smile, and I feel like we're two older sisters babysitting a toddler. Daiman meets our combined gazes with a shrug of his broad shoulders, though he's still smiling enthusiastically, looks like he's been accompanying Katabushi for most of these introductions.

"Well I guess we'll all go our separate ways then?" Imamura suggests lightly, waving an arm vaguely to the rest of them room. "There's still a bunch of introductions to be made."

"You might have the right idea there," I say, scanning for unfamiliar faces and eventually zero in on a boy leaning against the wall on the far side of the room with a rather disconcerting smirk. So it's not a generally welcoming expression, but I do plan on getting all these introductions over and done with, so I can't be picky. "Well I guess I'll get going first, see you all at the entrance ceremony!"

"Looking forward to it Ryouko-chan!" Katabushi cries, waving her arms above her head. Imamura, on the other hand sends me a kind wave, promising to meet up with me sometime later so we can start up a new conversation.

"Yup, see you later, buddy!" Honda agrees, his voice booming and causing some heads turn, but he doesn't acknowledge them at all, and I'm guessing most of them are too intimidated by him to actually comment.

Laughing to myself I make my way across the room, striding purposefully towards the smirking young man. Before I'm directly in his line of vision, I compose myself; schooling my features into a cool, but charming smile. I also take the moment to observe him carefully, making a game of guessing his talent from his appearance and clothing.

He's pretty average in height, I'd put him at 5'8" tops, and looks fairly athletic, but he's nowhere near as muscular as Honda (okay so I don't know _anyone_ as muscular as Honda.) Short, wild hair the color of pure charcoal sticks up near his ears, as if he didn't even bother brushing it, coupling with his average complexion in a mundane manner. In contrast, his eyes are a shocking sky blue, nearly glowing against the strands of hair that manage to fall into his eyes. His talent is starkly obvious in his choice of clothing, so I don't really get to guess. He's wearing a fully body rock climbing suit which clings to his frame like a dark grey second skin topped by a dark green pouch vest. The suit tucks into sturdy, black climbing boots that match the black gloves on his hands. Those gloves aren't anything like Dean's though; the finger parts are covered in metal, making the gloves themselves look like gauntlets. Each finger has a wicked, but minuscule blade at the tip. To be completely honest, they kind of remind me of claws, perfect for digging into soft materials if one needed to pull themselves up.

Take a guess at his talent. I dare you.

"Hello," I tell him lightly, stepping in front of him politely and offering him a winning smile. His smirk stays fastened to his lips, but his lack of interest is nearly a tangible aura around him, but I plow on anyway. "My name's Moriyama Ryouko, what's yours?"

"Hm... Ahaha, so you're going to be the next to talk to me..." He murmurs with almost trance like pauses between his words, they sound discordant, especially alongside his laugh. "Very well, my name is Verosha."

* * *

**Ventura Rozhkov**

**Ultimate Climber**

* * *

"I'm guessing that's foreign, Rozhkov-kun?" I offer him politely. He doesn't respond though, his face stays blankly smug, the smirk still holding fast, but there's no recognition whatsoever. I bite my lip trying to figure out why he's not responding before I recall his earlier introduction. He referred to himself as something else entirely, might as well try calling him that. "So I'm guessing you'll only respond to the name Verosha…?"

It's such an odd nickname honestly, though I can kind of see how it derives from his name, especially the ethnicity hinted in it.

"That's correct," he responds stoically, though that smirk is still in place. "My pack gave me my true name, and I will bear it until the day I die. I don't care about what those stuffy researchers try to tell me."

"Duly noted, Verosha-kun," I tell him lightly, trying to keep my voice pleasant despite my confusion. I mean seriously, pack? Like wolves or something? Not to mention he's still smir─ wait no he's not, the corners of his mouth have turned down in a slight frown, as if he swallowed something particularly unpleasant.

"Don't sully it with that honorific," he tells me, his tone hard.

"Alright, alright, sorry," I tell him, rolling my eyes in annoyance. So he's going to shove off honorifics too? Fine by me, he's quickly losing honor in my eyes anyway.

"Say it," he commands petulantly, and I really want to ask him if he's serious, but manage to bite my tongue.

"Verosha," I spit it, daring him to try and correct me this time, but to my surprise he just starts laughing. He. Starts. Fucking. _Laughing_. It's not even a laugh I can awkwardly ease into. It's mad, wild cackles that are borderline insane sounding, and are bound to send a child down anyone's spine, but despite their unorthodox manner, the mocking edge to it rings out clear as day. There is absolutely no way he can deny the fact _he's laughing at me_.

"Ahhaha… You just followed what I said without question, hahha," he chortles, managing to get the words out between boisterous cackles. A vein starts pulsing in my temple and I have to curl my fist, nails digging into palm to restrain myself from hurtling out some curses. Instead, I forcibly meet his gaze, making it very obvious that I am not amused.

"I don't see what's so funny about that," I tell him, just barely managing to keep my tone calm and decently pleasant, when in reality all I want to do is sneer at him. "And you seemed to want to be called Verosha, excuse me for wanting to get along with everyone."

"Ah, I find that funny too," he tells me, his smirk returning full force, as if I'm a highly amusing child who keeps doing stupid things. "Why try so hard to be a crowd pleaser? You'll get nothing in return."

"Well being a crowd pleaser is kind of in my talent description," I snap back, getting fed up with that stupid, belittling smirk. I'm actually proud that I've managed to hold my temper for so long, I definitely didn't last this long with Arita, that's for sure. "And how does making friends equal getting nothing in return?"

"It is naive way of thinking," he responds effortlessly, his expression suddenly darkening as if he's remembering something unpleasant. "The world is a cruel place... No one ever stays, not matter how tight your bonds. There is no need to continuously try and forge companionship." The sincerity of his words, and the evident emotion behind his expression makes me reconsider for a moment; make me want to see him in a better light. After all there are just some things you just can't act out (though considering my talent I'd like to think that I'm an exception,) maybe there's something under that gray exterior of his.

For that one split-second I feel something akin to sympathy for Verosha.

"You must be a spoiled, naive child to think otherwise." Oh, whoops there it goes. "I feel sorry for you."

"You know what I'm done!" I tell him, throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation. I don't see what's making my temper flare so quickly but it is, patience be damned. Something about that guy is just not right, and right now I don't have the patience or will to try and crack him. I abruptly turn away from him, sticking my nose up in the air, but I'm polite enough to look over my shoulder to give him a parting nod (never mind that's it's because I want to see if he's shocked at all.) He's watching me with interest alight in his eyes. What did he honestly expect? That I'd sing show tunes under a rainbow and dance? "Okay, nice to meet you, and all those other formalities, but for now good _bye."_

I whirl away from him blindly, still muttering under my breath the absolute nerve of that guy, but also cringing in mortification. So much for trying to get along with everyone and I had hoped my usual composure would have stuck for most of these introductions... No such luck, I've blown in up in front of two people, offended a third, and made a fool of myself in front of the majority of the others. Isn't this going swell?

Please tell me you got the sarcasm.

Unfortunately for me in the midst of my muttering my body had gone into complete autopilot (re: storming about aimlessly) and I end up knocking into someone rather forcefully.

"Ow, what the fuck!? Watch where you're going you little shit!"

**Author's Note:**

> And there we go my first attempt at an SYOC! Any thoughts or opinions on the setting or on Ryouko? I've been reading a lot of SYOC's lately and this idea just kept nagging so I though "What the hell, let's give it a shot" or something like that… Originally posted on ff.net so all the slots are already filled, but I hope you guys will still stick around.
> 
> You can check out fan art of Ryouko, made the by the awesome PowerPlayer, here: thepowerplayer.deviantart.com/art/Ultimate-Actress-Moriyama-Ryouko-541635745?ga_submit_new=10%253A1435097741&ga_type=edit&ga_changes=1&ga_recent=1


End file.
